A bobbing light stabbed in through the gaping window hole, illuminating the far wall for a moment, before disappearing again. Then her prison door squealed and shrieked and clattered open.
And DS Davis stepped inside.
He was wearing one of those head torches, turning himself into a shadow, only half seen as a void where the light bounced off the raw stone walls, carrying a bucket and spade. Like he was on his way to Bondi Fucking Beach.
Only they weren’t the kind you gave to little kids, they were full-sized ones. He clanged the bucket down, and scooped up Natasha’s shit with a disgusted grunt.Thunking it into the bucket. Retching as it hit the bottom.
Then, holding the bucket at arm’s length, he took the turd and the spade away.
Hope he bloodychokedon it.
But he was back a couple of minutes later, with a spray bottle of something – squirting it onto the ground, smothering the stench of shit with the bitter-bleach stink of lemon-scented toilet cleaner.
A grunt.
Then he was gone again, leaving the door wide open behind him.
But none of Natasha’s limbs worked any more, and even if they did, the anchor wouldn’t let her go more than six feet.
So, instead, she closed her eyes.
Natasha blinked up at the grey ceiling.
No idea how long she’d been out for, but the moon had crawled its way across the window’s jagged hollow, still low in the sky, skimming along the treetops.
The music had changed too – different singer, different band – but deep down it was the same: pounding drums and guitars, full of bitter chords and angst-fuelled rage.
Burning...
Her throat was made of firebricks.
Couldn’t even swallow any more.
Just made her whole head jerk with the effort.
Back when she was five or six, she’d hiked up Redpath Hill, behind Nanna Carter’s house. There was a roo, must’ve died in the bush a couple of weeks before. Magpies had been at it, but they’d barely made a dent, cos he’d been abigfella. But that was a long hot summer and the skin had shrunk as the body dried, till the ribs stood out like a bloody xylophone wrapped in leather.
She threw stones at it for a while.
Then went for a dip in Hyland Creek, while there was still some water left.
Christ.
To be back there, floating in the cool clear water, listening to the kookaburra cackle in the trees and the dragonflies hum. While the fat golden sun blazed—
‘Bitch.’
The whole world disappeared in a sharp glare of white, driving nails into her eyes.
Natasha screwed her face tight shut as those nails stabbed right out through the back of her head.
A foot nudged her ribs.
DS Davis was back – his voice slurred, and angry. But then he wasalwaysangry.‘You know, you should thank me.’
Oh, yeah, cos he’d been such a great host!
‘I said, you shouldthank me.’
